<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Take My Hand by camichats</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24963868">Take My Hand</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/camichats/pseuds/camichats'>camichats</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Check Please! (Webcomic)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, Angst, Breaking Up &amp; Making Up, Closeted Character, Communication, Cuddling &amp; Snuggling, Fluff, Friends With Benefits, Getting Together, Implied Sexual Content, Las Vegas Aces, M/M, One Night Stands, Teasing, Texting, Underage Drinking</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 10:42:51</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>15,245</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24963868</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/camichats/pseuds/camichats</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Bitty’s boyfriend flies them out to watch an Aces game in the playoffs, and Whiskey hooked up with Kent Parson, knowing that it wasn’t going to happen again. Except then Kent is asking if he wants to do this more often, and Whiskey says yes because he doesn’t have time for a relationship either. He should’ve known that nothing in his life would be so simple.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kent "Parse" Parson/Connor "Whiskey" Whisk</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>112</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Meet And Greet... And Meet And Greet Again</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"You can't keep your real ID in your wallet when you're carrying a fake one," Foxtrot said. "Whiskey, back me up here." </p><p>"She's right." </p><p>"Have you even been listening?" Tango asked, holding open his wallet as he tried to figure this out. </p><p>Whiskey raised an eyebrow. "Dude, you can't keep the ID that says you're underage with you while we're drinking. They'd notice when they were carding you, and you'd get kicked out."</p><p>"What am I supposed to do with my real one then?" he said, frowning down at it. </p><p>"Keep it in the hotel room with ours," Foxtrot said, pulling open the drawer where they'd stuck theirs. "They'll be safe and sound until we decide to start telling the truth again like nice, law-abiding citizens instead of hockey deviants." </p><p>"Hockey deviants with a rich benefactor," Whiskey added, because that part was important to him. He couldn't believe that Jack Zimmermann, rather than wait a couple weeks to see his boyfriend, had paid for all of them to come out to Vegas while the Aces continued in the playoffs. Perks of being fuck-off rich, he supposed. And he sure as hell wasn't complaining because after doing a night out on the town, they were going to the game tomorrow. He'd never attended a playoff game before-- ticket prices were too high-- and he was excited. He liked parties fine but bar hopping wasn't all it was cracked up to be, and he had little interest in gambling. He was pretty much going to suffer through tonight so that he could have the time of his life tomorrow. Zimmermann had signed his jersey the first time he'd visited Bitty at Samwell, and Whiskey had brought along his Parson jersey with the hopes that Jack could make it happen. If not, well, he was going to wear it to the game regardless of what happened with it afterwards. </p><p>"Still deviants, but bougie," Foxtrot said with a nod. </p><p>"Does that mean we're not worrying about who's paying for drinks?" Tango asked. </p><p>"Jack said he was covering it," Foxtrot said, shrugging. She took off her glasses to redo her ponytail. "If we leave the club or separate, we'd have issues, but I'd say our drinks in the beginning are totally covered." </p><p>"Get wasted early on," Whiskey said, patting Tango on the back. "That's what that means." </p><p>Tango rolled his eyes. "Yeah, thanks bro, cause I was real confused." </p><p>"You were going to bring your real ID with you when you're underage," Whiskey said flatly. </p><p>"That makes it sound like I'm not an adult. It's bullshit that you can vote but not drink." </p><p>"I agree," Foxtrot said, "but that doesn't change the fact that it would be kinda stupid to get kicked out of the party for it." </p><hr/><p>Whiskey was having a pretty good time. Bitty and Jack had taken to the dance floor a while back and only dropped by every once in a while to grab some water before heading back again; Bitty enjoyed the dancing, and Jack enjoyed looking at Bitty. It was the mushy kind of sweet-- or sweet if you ignored the loud music, questionable lighting, and taking shots every now and then to keep the buzz going. </p><p>He thought he was handling his drinks pretty well until he stood up. It's like it hit him all at once, going from pleasantly tipsy to definitely drunk. He chuckled, running a hand through his hair. "Wow." He was either going to have to stop drinking or chow down on something. He liked the almost grape flavor of his current drink, so he was going to order food as well as water. Well. He was going to <em> try </em> and order food. He knew that bars had food as well as drinks; did clubs? Maybe he would just die here instead. </p><p>Whiskey leaned against the bar and waited for his turn. He didn't see any evidence that they had food, and he didn't feel like embarrassing himself right now, so he'd grab enough water bottles for half the table because he'd drop them if he tried to carry more. </p><p>Someone on his left side tripped and half crashed into him, half caught themselves from falling face-first into the bar by grabbing his arm. "Shit, sorry man," he said, letting go after righting himself. </p><p>"It's fine," Whiskey said, then his throat promptly closed up because he was looking at Kent Parson. He was so goddamn pretty. He looked pretty in the photoshoots that he'd done, but Whiskey had written most of that off as makeup, lighting, angles, and photoshop. It was <em> not </em> all those things. Sure, maybe it was some, but he was way too naturally pretty to be in the NHL. </p><p>Oh god he'd been staring for too long, and now Kent Parson's expression was turning amused. "Something on my face?" </p><p>"You're really pretty," Whiskey said. His throat should've stayed closed. He should've choked to death rather than say that. Whiskey blinked at him. Then blinked another time. Then he gave a sharp turn so he was facing the bar again, feeling heat rise in his cheeks. Maybe if he pretended hard enough that he couldn't see him, Kent Parson would forget all about this and wouldn't recognize him at the game tomorrow. Or any time after this where they might meet. </p><p>Kent laughed though, and leaned against the bar right next to him, tilting his head to look up at him. "You're not so bad yourself. Normally I'd offer to buy you a drink, but it seems like maybe any more would be taking advantage of you." </p><p>"Feel free to buy me a bucket of ice. Maybe then I'll stop freaking out." </p><p>"Or we could skip the buying stuff part and dance?" </p><p>"I uh, don't really dance." </p><p>"Ah." Kent gave a nod and started to turn away from him, which was <em> not </em> what Whiskey had been trying to say. </p><p>"Maybe you can tell me something though," he said, practically shoving the words out of his mouth before he lost his nerve. He was hitting on Kent Parson. God, how did he get here. </p><p>Kent looked at him again. "Yeah?" </p><p>"Did you bring a condom with you?" </p><p>Kent's smile widened, then he laughed. "Can't say I was expecting this, but my apartment is stocked. Flavored condoms, warming lube-- the good shit." </p><p>God god <em> god</em>. Was this real? This was straight out of Whiskey's wet dreams, holy fuck. He gestured vaguely at the club around them, knowing that he wasn't really pulling off casual but trying it anyways. "I don't have anywhere better to be." </p><p>"Baby, that's the best thing you could've said to me. Do you need to say goodbye to anyone?" </p><p>He <em> could, </em> but he wasn't going to. Not in person, at least. "I'll text them." </p><p>"Sounds good," he said straightening. They beat a hasty exist, and Whiskey was just tipsy enough that he wasn't worrying about this. What was the worst that could happen, anyways? Dude was famous, it's not like Whiskey was going to end up in the hospital. "I'm Kent, by the way." </p><p>"Whiskey." </p><p>"Your name is Whiskey?" </p><p>He shrugged because, "Nickname," and it felt more like him than 'Connor' did, especially these days. He'd heard that college changed people, but he hadn't expected for it to effect him so much. </p><p>"Familiar with those," he said with another smile. He took a quick glance around, saw that they were the only ones in this section of the parking garage, then leaned closer. Intimate. "Let me guess, it's because of the color of your eyes." </p><p>"No, but if I say yes, I think I'll like where that will get me." </p><p>"Or you could just ask me to kiss you." </p><p>"Or you could kiss me without me asking." </p><p>Kent hummed, taking the half step closer so that there was no space between them. He tilted his head up slowly to look Whiskey in the eye, knowing exactly how good he looked, the bastard. "Where's the fun in that." </p><p>Whiskey leaned down a little, and Kent lifted up, and they were kissing. Whiskey had fooled around before. Dated a guy on the lacrosse team for a while, but mostly they'd both been horny. He'd done that before, but he thought he preferred this: slow, passionate, and a promise of more. That it was the guy of his dreams wasn't exactly a minor detail. But whatever. "You said something about your apartment?" he murmured. They were still close enough that when he spoke, his lips brushed against Kent's. </p><p>Kent's mouth curved into a smile; he did that a lot. "Hell yes." </p><hr/><p>The sex was great-- Kent was a fucking NHL player, he was <em> built </em> and no stranger to sex, besides-- and Whiskey didn't know shit about real estate, but his place was expensive. Whiskey had a passing relationship with Kit while he was grabbing water to avoid a hangover the next morning, and she was judgmentally looking at the person in her home that wasn't her owner. Whiskey started to reason with her-- you know, the way everyone talked to animals like they knew exactly what was going on and could understand what they were saying-- only to come to a sudden halt when Kent caught him at it. He laughed a little, but didn't mock him, which was good enough for Whiskey. </p><p>It was hardly the most mind blowing detail of the night, but his bed was <em> nice</em>. So when Kent offered to let him stay the night, he said yes. He shot Tango and Foxtrot both a text saying that he'd be back in the morning, and then he fell asleep on what was easily the comfiest bed he'd ever been in. </p><p>It was therefore a rude awakening when his phone started ringing in the ungodly hours of the morning. It wasn't his alarm. He had planned to be asleep for a while longer in the best bed ever made. He grabbed it and hit the answer button. "What." </p><p>"Duuuuude!" Tango said. </p><p>Whiskey dropped back onto the mattress, rubbing at his eyes. "Why are you still awake? It's-" he checked his phone "-four in the morning." </p><p>"Just because <em> you </em> dropped out early to get laid doesn't mean the rest of us stopped." </p><p>"We're hockey bros and we party haaaard!" Foxtrot said, probably leaning against Tango if the mic could pick her up that easily. There was vague background noise of a couple people agreeing with her. </p><p>"You're still drunk," he stated. </p><p>"Uh <em> yeah </em> bro, and you should be too. Oh my god that's the <em> best </em> idea. Whiskey, you should-" </p><p>"No. Drink some water and don't call me unless you actually need something." </p><p>"But Whiskey," Tango whined. </p><p>"Good night," he said, ending the call and setting it back on the side table. </p><p>What Whiskey <em> wanted </em> to do was roll over and fall right back asleep, but he was sober now. Sober and ready to panic. Or at least sober enough that he could feel the beginnings of panic curling in him, but the truth was that he didn't have the energy to panic. So he thought about how dumb it was for him to go home with a guy when he'd been hanging out with his friends that he wasn't out to, and then he thought about how it didn't really matter because it was Kent fucking Parson and that was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. What was the point in freaking out when nothing bad had happened? Foxtrot and Tango hadn't seen who he'd left with, and if he was given the chance to do it again, he would. That Kent had shown the slightest interest in him was a miracle. That he'd responded positively to Whiskey drunkenly blurting that he was pretty, positively enough that he wanted to take Whiskey home with him? That was as close to divine intervention as could happen in someone's life. He wasn't going to let it get to him. </p><p>It didn't make sense to freak out-- especially not now, after it was done-- but the reason he was able to keep lying there instead of running for the hills was because he was just too tired. He'd run through the logical reasoning of it in his head, but it came down to him being exhausted. </p><p>"Good call?" Kent asked, and Whiskey glanced at him. His eyes were droopy and his voice was rough with sleep. </p><p>"Did I wake you up?" He'd tried to keep his voice down, but it hadn't been his main concern at the time. </p><p>"Your ringtone did." Kent paused to yawn widely. "You should change it to something a little less shrill." </p><p>"I don't hear it if it's like that," Whiskey said around a responding yawn. "Sorry." </p><p>"It's fine." </p><p>Whiskey rolled onto his side. "What time do I need to be out of your hair?" </p><p>"Got somewhere to be at nine." </p><p>"'kay." He shifted to be on his back and reached for his phone and changed his alarm from a too-hopeful nine thirty wake up to eight o'clock. He didn't know what he'd been thinking when he set it that late, but he also hadn't expected for Kent to let him stay the night. </p><p>"You're adorable," Kent said when he rolled back over to face him. He reached out a hand and ruffled Whiskey's hair, which always fell in his face while he was sleeping. Kent messing with it put it directly in his eyes, and he swept it to the side impatiently. </p><p>"Do you think I'm another cat or something?" </p><p>"Don't be stupid. If you were my cat, I'd be cuddling with you right now." He paused, then added, "And probably kissing you, cause I mean, c'mon." He made a vague gesture towards Whiskey's body that was probably supposed to represent the reasoning behind wanting to kiss him. </p><p>Whiskey chuckled and was tired enough that he didn't overthink it before scooting closer. "Go nuts, man." </p><p>"Amazing," Kent breathed, and Whiskey could tell-- without needing a point of reference-- that it was his cat voice. He put an arm around Whiskey and stretched a little so he could nuzzle at the top of Whiskey's head. </p><p>"Maybe you're the cat here," Whiskey muttered. He had to put an arm over Kent's hip to get it out of the way, and with the way they were positioned, he had to get closer so his position was anywhere approaching comfortable. </p><p>"Mm. Maybe." </p><p>The second time he woke up in bed with Kent was a little more awkward, but neither of them made a big deal out of it. Kent didn't offer his number, and Whiskey didn't ask. He said that he had fun, and Kent kissed him goodbye. Huh. So that's what a normal hookup was like. He wondered if the hesitant regret was part of the package, or if he was being weird. </p><p>It's not that he hadn't enjoyed himself-- because he one hundred percent had, no doubt-- but it would've been nice to get a relationship out of it. Sleeping with Kent once didn't feel like enough, especially since it the memory was a little fuzzy from how much he'd had to drink. It wasn't the high of having sex with a celebrity; it was that Kent was great. Was it bullshit if he said he liked the cuddling more than the sex? Both had been awesome, but maybe Whiskey wasn't the sleep-with-anyone-who-offers type. </p><p>Yeah. One hookup was enough. From now on, he was going to look for a relationship. Not that he was really on the lookout for any kind of relationship, but still. </p><hr/><p>Whiskey didn't put much thought into how the game was going to go until they were all heading to the stadium. Not on a personal level, at least. The game could really go either way, just like the past two-- which had both gone into overtime and gotten each team a win-- but Whiskey was practically vibrating, he was so excited. </p><p>On a personal level... he hadn't considered that Jack was friends with Kent and technically they were going to see Jack and probably meet some of the other Aces after the game. He was wearing a Parson jersey right now. It would be weird to ask him to sign it after they slept together, wouldn't it? Or maybe celebrities were used to this sort of thing. Whiskey couldn't be the first fan that Kent had had sex with. Although, now that he thought about it, had he mentioned that to Kent? He hadn't wanted to make it weird by saying that he liked how he skated or that he was in awe of his point streak, so he'd kept his mouth shut. </p><p>Which probably meant that if Kent saw him-- either at the game, or after the game-- that was something he'd have to answer. Well... maybe Kent wouldn't mention it, and he could avoid talking about it entirely. Yeah. Why would Kent bring it up? He probably wouldn't even recognize Whiskey with the jersey and the bright lights and all that shit. He'd be fine. </p><p>Jack had gotten them all great seats, which meant they were right up against the glass, yelling abuse and pounding on the glass as the situation called for it. </p><p>The Aces won-- two to zero, and getting a shut out in a playoff game was the coolest shit, god Whiskey loved them-- and Bitty said they should stick around afterwards so Jack could get out and join them. They'd have a celebration, but with less drinking than the night before since the Aces had another game early in the afternoon tomorrow. </p><p>"Do you think we'll get to meet any of the other Aces?" Tango asked Bitty, excitement clear on his face. </p><p>"I don't know. Jack said he'd mention it to some of the guys, but I don't know if any of them will accept. Tango, I know you're a big fan, but could ya keep it chill? They're just like us-- only better at playing hockey and not as good at baking." </p><p>"I think that last part only applies to you, brah," Shitty said, messing up Bitty's hair. </p><p>"I'd like to think that some of my good taste and techniques have been rubbing off on y'all," Bitty said with a sniff. "But the point is that I'm sure they don't want any of us fawning over them when they're trying to relax after a game." </p><p>"Chill, Bitts," Nursey said. "We'll be cool." </p><p>Dex said something disdainful in response to that, and they were arguing again. Chowder looked like the world's saddest puppy, and Bitty tried to tell him to ignore them. As usual, it didn't do much to calm him down, and people either ignored them to have quiet conversations of their own, or watched to see what would happen. Whiskey opted to do the latter. </p><p>"Five bucks says Dex starts screaming at him in the next two and a half minutes," Tango whispered. </p><p>"One and a half," Whiskey said. "Two minutes, max. Look at how red he is already." </p><p>"I think he'll make it past three," Foxtrot said and started a timer. That was an incredibly optimistic estimate on her part. "He's been getting better." </p><p>"If by better, you mean leaving before he has the chance to get too worked up, then yeah, he's been getting better," Whiskey said. </p><p>They watched the argument escalate-- which was mostly Dex derailing into spluttering outrage and Nursey's smirk getting more smug. </p><p>"That's not even how that works!" Dex screamed. </p><p>Foxtrot hit stop, and they all leaned over to see. 1:45. She sighed. "We both owe Whiskey five dollars." </p><p>"I can't believe you thought he'd make it to three minutes," Tango said, shaking his head. </p><p>"What, like your guess was so much better?" she asked, glaring up at him. </p><p>"Thirty seconds better." </p><p>She rolled her eyes, then cleared her screen and put her phone back in her pocket. "Do you think Jack will bring Parson with him?" </p><p>"I don't know. They're friends again, right?" Tango said, glancing at Whiskey for another opinion. </p><p>Whiskey shrugged. </p><p>"They were friends back in Juniors-- we all know that-- but I'd say they're friends again. Playing on the same team again and all that, right?" </p><p>"Do you think he'd sign my jersey?" Foxtrot asked, craning her neck around to look at her back. "I don't have a Zimmermann one, but it would be so cool to have a signed jersey." </p><p>"He seems really nice, from what I've seen." </p><p>"And really gorgeous from what we've all seen," she said, knocking an elbow into Whiskey's side. "That body issue did us all a favor." </p><p>Whiskey hummed in agreement. There was no reason for it to look like a shoot from a porn magazine, but it definitely <em> did</em>. That was how most of those issues looked, to be fair. Whiskey's parents hadn't thought it was suspicious for him to own those magazines, but he had to wonder if they'd ever looked inside; they wouldn't have been as accepting if they had, he was sure. </p><p>They probably would've continued to talk about Kent Parson and how stupidly attractive he was if Bitty hadn't yelled, "Jack!" and diverted everyone's attention. Jack was hugging Bitty now, but there were a handful of other Aces coming up behind him, clearly joining him for their little party-- 'little' was a relative term. </p><p>Jack introduced the guys from his team to them, and there was a round of waves and hello's tossed through the air. Kent was there. His eyes scanned the group, stuttered over Whiskey, then went back to Jack and Bitty, who were in charge of this shindig. Damn it. So much for him not recognizing Whiskey. The smart thing would be if they ignored each other. That would also be the option that hurt, so it's not like there was a good way out for this. Bowing out completely would be suspicious as hell, and not something Tango or Foxtrot would let go until they got an answer. Whatever. He'd suffered through worse. </p><p>"Drinks at Charlotte's guys, let's roll out," Scraps said. </p><p>Chowder ended up in the cab with Whiskey, Tango, and Foxtrot, but he looked a little awkward about it. His choices had been them or Dex and Nursey though, so the choice was clear. </p><p>"You should ask him to sign," Foxtrot said, her face all earnest and encouraging. </p><p>"Who?" </p><p>"Parson! Who else, man?" Tango said. "You were brave enough to ask Jack; I don't see why this would be any different." </p><p>He was right. Damn it. If Whiskey hadn't met him last night, he would've done it, no question. "Sure," he said with a shrug. He wasn't going to do it until later though, because talking to him early on would make the entire night weird. Whiskey could ignore quite a bit, but he didn't think he'd survive that. </p><p>Kent didn't seem to have the same qualms, because when they got to the bar, he said, in front of everyone that happened to be there, "Whiskey, right?" </p><p>"Why does Kent Parson know who you are?" Tango said, frowning up at Kent from his chair instead of looking at Whiskey. </p><p>Kent shrugged, taking one of the open seats at the table where they'd planted themselves-- Whiskey had taken what was passing for a corner considering they were round tables not pressed against a wall. "We met at a club last night. You didn't mention you like hockey." </p><p>"I think the only thing I mentioned was being too drunk to stay." </p><p>"Yeah, that's fair. Still, showing up at an Aces game, wearing my jersey... you didn't say anything. Most people say something when they're fans." </p><p>"I didn't want to freak you out." </p><p>"Right," Foxtrot said, "cause that's what you're known for: freaking out." </p><p>Oh, if only she knew. Speaking of... "Would you sign my jersey?" </p><p>"Sure, man," Kent said with an easy smirk. </p><p>Whiskey pulled the jersey off over his head, careful not to get it in anyone's drink. He had a black undershirt on, so it was already better than when he'd gotten Jack to sign. </p><p>Kent pulled a marker out of his pocket and set the jersey flat against a clear piece of table. He'd probably started carrying around a marker when they got to the finals. Vegas wasn't exactly hockey territory, but they were up for the Cup; if there was ever a time for him to get recognized as the Aces's captain, it would be now. He signed, put the marker away, and handed the jersey back. </p><p>Whiskey stared at the signature for a second, smiling down at it. This would make the third signed jersey he had, and the second of the set he wanted most-- he'd always been a big fan of the Parson-Zimmermann duo, and now he had both of them signed. "Thanks," he said, pulling it back on. Then he looked at Tango and Foxtrot pointedly. </p><p>"Oh fuck off," Tango grumbled. </p><p>"You realize you could ask him too, right?" Whiskey said, not bothering to keep his voice low. </p><p>"Ask me what?" Kent asked. </p><p>Whiskey raised an eyebrow at his friend, waiting. </p><p>Tango blushed a little, then asked, "Would you sign my jersey? Um, please?" </p><p>"Mine too?" Foxtrot added hopefully. </p><p>Kent laughed but said yes. </p><p>Tango was a bit of a fumbling mess afterwards, but Foxtrot came to his rescue, drawing him into the conversation with Scraps and Chowder about the Sharks-- what else-- and he calmed down. </p><p>"So you knew who I was last night," Kent said, low enough that everyone else couldn't hear since they were busy. Right now, even leaning a little closer to each other in preparation to hear better, they just looked like two guys chatting. No big deal. </p><p>"Yeah." </p><p>"Do I need to make you sign an NDA?" he said, only half-joking. </p><p>Whiskey snorted. "I'm not out, and I don't know how to contact people at the tabloids to try and sell details anyways. Do they have a call number on their site or something?" </p><p>Kent's worry from before was gone in a flash, and he hummed. "You know, I'm not sure. Probably. I can't say I've looked into it." </p><p>"Eh. Sounds like too much work." </p><p>"Cheers, bro," Kent said, knocking the bottle of his beer bottle to Whiskey's. "So..." He glanced at the rest of their sprawling group to make sure they were still busy. "You busy later tonight?" </p><p>"You have a game tomorrow." </p><p>"You're not going to wear me out <em> that </em> bad," Kent said with an easy going smirk. </p><p>"Do you have an excuse for me to use?" </p><p>"Hanging out with an NHL star?" </p><p>Whiskey stared at him flatly. "Most of these people are friends with Jack." </p><p>"That doesn't make me less of an NHL star, Whiskey. I'm hot shit." </p><p>When all Whiskey did was continue to look at him, Kent rolled his eyes. </p><p>"Fine, tell them I want to talk about your game. What does it matter? It's not like they're gonna pry into your shit, right?" </p><p>Whiskey blinked and elected not to answer that; he was pretty sure all hockey teams were basically the same, so Kent had no reason to think that was true. "No, I don't have any plans later tonight." </p><p>"You do now," Kent said with a snort, then took a sip of his beer. </p><p>"Cool." </p><p>Whiskey didn't drink all that much on normal days, and since he had plans with Kent later on, it was a good excuse for him to nurse a beer through the night instead of joining Bitty, Lardo, and Shitty in taking shots. Foxtrot and Tango kept to their drinks instead of burning through them, claiming that going from wasted to hungover straight back to wasted wasn't how they wanted to live. They were on vacation, so Whiskey would have considered going for it, but last night with Kent was a bit fuzzy on the details, and he wanted to remember this as best he could. </p><p>Sex with Kent was great. If there was one thing Whiskey had learned at the end of the night, it was that sex with Kent the second time was even better than the first. </p><hr/><p>"Here," Kent said, holding a phone out to Whiskey. </p><p>Whiskey looked at it blankly, not taking it. "That's your phone." </p><p>"Yeah, man." </p><p>"Why?" </p><p>"So I can contact other people who also have phones? I know you have one; that ringtone is hard to forget." </p><p>Oh. It clicked into place. "You want my number?" </p><p>"That's what I was hoping for, but it's no big deal," he said, starting to draw his hand back. </p><p>Whiskey snapped his hand out and took the phone. "Nope." He typed it in and saved it under 'Whiskey'. </p><p>Kent took his phone back when Whiskey offered it, then edited it to say 'Babe' and added a little sunglasses emoji before saving it again. </p><p>"You haven't seen me with sunglasses," was all Whiskey had to say about it. </p><p>"It's a representation of you being cool as shit, not you wearing sunglasses. Like the 'Babe' part is you being great to sleep with, not because we're dating." </p><p>That raised more questions than it answered. Like, for example, why Kent would need to remember that he was great to sleep with at all. Most people-- he assumed-- would keep it in their heads for a little bit, then forget about when they found someone else. Whiskey didn't live around here. What would be the point in keeping his number? "You could've kept it as 'Whiskey'." </p><p>"Your suggestion has been heard and rejected." Kent gave him a quick kiss. "C'mon, I gotta meet with my A's before the game." </p><p>Whiskey grabbed his bag, slid on his shoes, and gave Kit a last pet before leaving, Kent right behind him. </p><p>"Dude, pretty sure my cat likes you more than me." </p><p>"Not true." </p><p>"You're getting there."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. A Friendship Like This</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Kent hadn't texted or called him. Then again, Whiskey hadn't expected for him to. The Aces got knocked out of the playoffs, but Whiskey had heard through the Samwell grapevine that Jack hadn't expected for them to make it as far as they did. </p><p>Whiskey was at the gym when it happened. He was running on the treadmill, not thinking about anything in particular, just losing himself in the steady pound of his feet against the track and the background noise of the sports playing on the TV when his phone dinged. </p><p><b>From Unknown Number:</b> You ''''''claimed'''''' that Kit liked me more than you, but look at her now</p><p><b>From Unknown Number:</b> *photo*</p><p>Whiskey didn't know what to make of getting a text from an unknown number until he opened it up and saw the picture of Kit. Kit was glaring up at the camera, and Kent had added the caption <em> you're my less favorite father</em>. Whiskey saved it to his phone and didn't think about why. </p><p><b>From Whiskey:</b> Am I to assume this is the NHL player I slept with?</p><p><b>From Unknown Number:</b> :( Awww c'mon I thought we had fun. Did you really delete my number?</p><p><b>From Whiskey:</b> You never gave it to me.</p><p>But he had the number know, so he hit 'Save Contact' and put it in under a cat emoji. In general, Whiskey didn't do the joking-nicknames thing with his contacts, but he didn't want for someone to see Kent's name and come to the correct conclusion. When he got another message in, he switched to a speech-to-text filter instead of fucking up his rhythm by stopping to type every single time. </p><p><b>From Kent:</b> Shit, really? Sorry.</p><p><b>From Kent:</b> That does explain why you didn't text me tho</p><p><b>From Whiskey:</b> Was that something you were waiting for?</p><p><b>From Kent:</b> Kinda. Didn't want to bother you, but Kit giving me that look meant breaking radio silence</p><p><b>From Whiskey:</b> Would've been hard to text you since I don't know why you wanted my number anyways.</p><p><b>From Kent: </b>Dick pics? Jk</p><p><b>From Kent:</b> Mostly.</p><p><b>From Kent:</b> It'd be hard to get in touch when we're in the same place if I don't have a way of calling or texting you.</p><p><b>From Whiskey:</b> Is that what we're doing? </p><p><b>From Kent:</b> That's what I'm hoping for, tbh.</p><p>Whiskey looked at the text, his stomach clenching like it didn't know what to do with that confession. The typing bubble popped up, then disappeared, but he didn't get a new text. It reappeared, then blinked away again. </p><p><b>From Whiskey:</b> Yeah alright.</p><p>He looked at the message for a moment after it typed itself off from his words. Send. God. What was he doing. Other people could get involved with hockey stars and not have it be a big deal, but Whiskey couldn't. Hadn't he just decided that he couldn't do casual sex? Whiskey didn't fuck around. He was in college to either get picked up by a pro hockey team or get his degree in economics so he could live the rest of his life in rich monotony. But hell, this was what college was for, right? Having fun before settling down? </p><p><b>From Kent:</b> Awesome</p><p><b>From Kent:</b> So uh, where do you live? Promise I'm not a stalker.</p><p><b>From Whiskey:</b> Sounds like something a stalker would say.</p><p><b>From Whiskey:</b> Just outside Samwell.</p><p>He'd almost gotten a place in Providence because he'd heard that the Falconers were looking for some new recruits since they had a few guys who were going to be retiring in the next couple years. They could always go through the draft, but they had scouts at some of Samwell's games last semester and he'd heard that they were sending more this next year. He didn't graduate until the year after that, but hopefully that would be right on time when they needed extra players. But it didn't make sense to live in Providence when he was only halfway through getting his degree. A ten minute commute made more sense than an hour one. </p><p><b>From Kent:</b> Ugh what's with you people living in cold places. </p><p><b>From Whiskey:</b> Having this problem with all your hookups? </p><p><b>From Kent:</b> You know full well you're the only one. Mostly I meant Jack not buying a place in Vegas, and his parents still live in Canada.</p><p>This was going to be a very confusing relationship. Kent kept saying things that he thought were obvious, and Whiskey kept getting surprised. First, he said that of course they were getting together at some point. Whiskey hadn't known that it was even on the table. Second, Kent was apparently going to visit? There was no other reason for him to dislike that Whiskey lived in Massachusetts. He hadn't asked for a specific address yet, but Whiskey wasn't going to be surprised when he ended up asking for it. What he had to offer Kent-- enough to travel halfway across the country-- he had no idea, but he figured he could be prepared for that to happen. Third, and this one shouldn't have surprised him, but apparently Kent knew Bad Bob Zimmermann well enough to complain about where he lived. </p><p>Kent was showing unprecedented interest in him. And that, more than anything else, didn't make sense. Whatever. </p><p><b>From Whiskey:</b> Isn't that where they're from?</p><p><b>From Kent:</b> Bob is, yeah, but come on, get with the program. When your son and his boyfriend plan on living in the states for the rest of their lives, wouldn't you like to be closer?</p><p><b>From Whiskey:</b> You're weird.</p><p><b>From Kent:</b> Yeah, fuck you too. </p><p><b>From Kent:</b> Not for this, for the Kit thing.</p><p><b>From Kent:</b> Seriously, you were around twice. TWICE.</p><p><b>From Kent:</b> TWICE OVER TWO DAYS. IT SHOULD NOT BE LIKE THIS.</p><p><b>From Whiskey:</b> Are you sure she doesn't always act like this?</p><p><b>From Kent:</b> ...</p><p><b>From Kent:</b> Fuck off. </p><p><b>From Whiskey:</b> I'll take that as a yes.</p><p><b>From Kent:</b> On a less embarrassing topic, will you send me a selfie?</p><p><b>From Whiskey:</b> Why? </p><p><b>From Kent:</b> Fair's fair. I sent you one.</p><p><b>From Whiskey:</b> You sent me a picture of Kit. That doesn't count. </p><p><b>From Kent:</b> *photo*</p><p>It was perfectly innocent, the sort of picture that someone had as their contact photo. Kent was grinning at the camera, his balcony and the view behind it the backdrop. It was all golden and blue. What an asshole. </p><p><b>From Whiskey:</b> I'm at the gym.</p><p><b>From Kent:</b> Send me one anyways.</p><p>Whiskey rolled his eyes and set his phone down. He only had one more mile left, so he was going to finish that before continuing whatever flirtation it was they had going on right now. He wanted to go back to not thinking at all, but it didn't stick. His mind kept circling back to Kent and what was going on between them. </p><p>When Kent had saved his number, he'd said something about Whiskey being good to sleep with, but they hadn't talked about why Kent wanted his number. They weren't dating. They established that. And now Kent was texting him like they were... what, fuck buddies? Friends that had slept together before and were planning on doing it again? Whiskey didn't think Kent would want to do that if they kept talking. Having sex twice wasn't a good basis for a relationship. Whiskey was a pretty boring guy, and Kent was going to learn that soon. </p><p>Whiskey hopped off the treadmill, took a quick picture and hit send. </p><p><b>From Whiskey:</b> That's all the effort you're going to get out of me.</p><p><b>From Kent:</b> Sad but unsurprising. You look good though. Every time I work out I get all splotchy, but you're even. Such an ass. </p><p>Whiskey snorted, shaking his head. Evidently, Kent was determined to be interested in him. Whatever. </p><hr/><p>They texted back and forth for a week before the expected question came up. </p><p><b>From Kent:</b> Can I come visit you? Not much to do in the off-season. </p><p><b>From Whiskey:</b> I intern 5 to noon every day.</p><p>The internship was only another few weeks, but he doubted that Kent was asking now if he wasn't planning on visiting for another month. </p><p><b>From Whiskey:</b> You can visit if you're not going to deprive me of sleep.</p><p><b>From Kent:</b> I swear I will let you follow your bedtime.</p><p><b>From Whiskey:</b> Then sure.</p><p>What the hell was he doing. He was going to get burned if he kept playing with fire like this. It's not as if he were in love with Kent, but he could see it happening if they started spending time together. Not to sound too power hungry, but falling in love would mess up his plans. If he was able to get in the NHL, it wouldn't be a good idea for him to be dating another player. If he was following the economics route, he would be too busy to be dating someone that lived so far away. It would only end poorly. </p><p>And yet he'd said yes. </p><p>He was reminded of when Foxtrot said that he didn't panic and had the urge to text her saying that she was wrong. It would certainly raise a few questions for her, and they would be questions he didn't want to answer. The urge passed after a few seconds, and he blew out a breath, heading to the locker room. He didn't like showering here, so he was just going to pick up his bag and go back to his apartment. </p><p><b> <em>Call Incoming</em> </b> his phone said, buzzing in his hand. Whiskey frowned, wondering if he'd spontaneously started to have specific visual hallucinations, because that was the cat emoji he'd assigned to Kent where the caller name should be. He slid it to answer by rote, half convinced that it was an accidental dial. "Hello?" </p><p>"Is now a bad time?" Kent asked. </p><p>"Bad time for what?" If he wanted phone sex, then yes, definitely a bad time. And not something Whiskey would indulge him in anyways. </p><p>"To tell you that I'm already in the city?" </p><p>"Does the word 'boundaries' mean anything to you?" </p><p>Whiskey could practically hear the responding wince there. "Right. Sorry. Should I get back on the plane?" </p><p>"Are you still at the airport?" </p><p>"No." </p><p>"Then no," Whiskey said. "Where are you?" </p><p>"Outside a coffee house called Annie's. They make a pretty nice caramel latte, if you were wondering." </p><p>"I wasn't." He lifted his free hand and swiped his hair to the side. "I know where it is. Stay where you are, and I'll come get you." </p><p>"Are you mad at me?" </p><p>He didn't know if he was, so he said, "Can I trust for you to stay there?" </p><p>"Oof, really mad. Not the way I pictured this starting, but consider it to be burned into my brain for any future visits. Yeah, I'll stay right here. Am I allowed to go to the bathroom, or do I need special permission for that?" </p><p>Whiskey hung up on him. He wasn't busy, but that wasn't the point. Kent didn't know that he was free until twenty minutes ago, and he'd still been there, assuming that if Whiskey <em> wasn't </em> free, he'd make the time. Kent was a bit of an ass, but it never occurred to Whiskey to tell him to fuck off. Kent was an ass, but a well intentioned one. And one that Whiskey was a little too fond of for reasons he couldn't begin to understand. </p><p>The gym wasn't far from Annie's, only a five minute drive once he got in his car. Since it was a short drive, he didn't bother to send Kent a text with an ETA. Kent was waiting at one of the outside tables when he walked up, looking intently at his phone. Black tee and a backwards Aces hat wasn't exactly going incognito considering he was in a place where hockey was pretty big. Especially since he'd gone to an Epikegster a couple years ago. </p><p>"Do you always look like a wet cat when someone tells you no?" Whiskey asked. </p><p>At the sound of his voice, Kent jerked his head up to look at him. "Uh." </p><p>Whiskey raised an eyebrow. </p><p>"So I've been told. In uh, not as nice terms. Swoops gets pretty pissy." </p><p>"Me and Swoops have that in common. C'mon." </p><p>Kent got to his feet and followed Whiskey when he started walking back towards the car. "So you're mad at me, but you're not asking me to leave." </p><p>"You're already here, and I'm not so busy that I can't spend some time with you. Especially since you took a fucking plane out here." </p><p>"See, if you're mad, I respond best when you just say it flat out. I can find something else to do if you want some time to cool off. Or just, y'know, want me gone. That's cool too." </p><p>"You're not good at lying." Whiskey unlocked the doors, and Kent sighed before joining him inside. "Don't do it again," he said once the doors were closed. "You can ask, and I'll tell you." </p><p>Kent grimaced. "Got it." </p><p>"I'm not mad." </p><p>"You're kind of acting like it," Kent muttered. </p><p>"Kent?" </p><p>He looked over at Whiskey. </p><p>"Don't do it again, and we're fine." </p><p>"No surprise visits. One hundred percent heard you, it won't happen again." </p><p>Whiskey nodded, because that was good to hear now that he believed Kent meant it. Then he leaned over and gave Kent a quick kiss. "Do you have plans while you're here?" </p><p>Kent shrugged, giving a tentative smile. "Hanging out with you, mostly. I'll find something to do while you're interning or uh, need some time alone. I won't be in your way," he added quickly. </p><p>"Chill. I was annoyed that you didn't give me a heads-up, that's all." <em> But knowing exactly what you want would be good, too</em>, he thought. He started the car and started driving to his apartment. "Not sure why you're visiting, anyways." </p><p>"You said I could," Kent reminded him, like he was afraid Whiskey was going to rescind his acceptance. </p><p>God. Getting answers out of this guy was proving impossible. "Yeah." </p><p>"Is there a problem?" </p><p>For fuck's sake. Whiskey was going to have to spell it out or suffer. Suffering sounded like the easier option, but Whiskey had a feeling he was going to lose a lot of sleep if he did that. He couldn't afford to lose sleep right now. "You said we're not dating, but you show up for a surprise visit and get worried that I'm mad at you." </p><p>"I don't like people being mad with me if it's not on the ice; I don't think it's that weird." </p><p>Whiskey just kept looking at him. </p><p>"Fine, you're cute. You happy?" </p><p>"That doesn't answer anything." </p><p>Kent blew out a breath and took his hat off, ruffling his hair before putting it back on. "I'm not looking for anyone to date. It's a lot of hassle that I don't need." </p><p>"Okay." </p><p>"But I like you, and you're pretty cool, so I thought we could be, like, friends with benefits or something." </p><p>"You could've asked." </p><p>"It's a pretty weird thing to ask." </p><p>"Not weirder than what you just did," Whiskey said, because he felt like he had to point that out. "But yeah, I'm cool with that." If they had it established as friends, he'd be fine. Plus, he'd already decided that dating someone would be too much trouble, so this was a good solution. </p><p>"Oh. Seriously?" </p><p>"Does it sound like I'm lying?" </p><p>"No, I just mean... like, you agreed easier than I thought you would. People always ask me if I'm sure I don't want to try dating because they don't demand very much or some shit. I guess I was expecting for you to say no or say something like that." </p><p>Whiskey snorted. "I'm high maintenance." He knew that about himself. Or at least, he would be high maintenance in a relationship with Kent. It's not like he had dated anyone seriously before, but he knew what he'd be like. "And why would I say no to sex with you?" </p><p>"You never know. Some people have standards." </p><p>It shouldn't have been funny, but Whiskey laughed. "I'm sure." </p><hr/><p>"Did you... make lunch?" Whiskey asked when he got back from his internship. He looked around at the kitchen suspiciously. </p><p>"Yeah. I also bought you a bigger pan because I wouldn't have been able to do stir fry in that." He pointed at Whiskey's only pan, which was big enough to do a couple eggs in and not much else. </p><p>"I didn't need a bigger pan before." </p><p>"Well you have a bigger one now if you ever want to expand your cooking menu. I figured you'd be hungry after... whatever it is you do at your internship. What do you do there?" Kent asked, looking at him curiously. "You never said. Where is it?" </p><p>"You're not visiting me," Whiskey said quickly, eyes narrowed at Kent. It's not that he thought Kent would go out of his way to embarrass him, but his visit over here had proved that he didn't have the best grasp of social conventions-- like not visiting your fuckbuddy who was in the closet at their internship. </p><p>Kent rolled his eyes. "I know. I heard you the first time you said no surprise visits. This is what I like to call 'getting to know you'. Have you had that conversation before?" </p><p>Not really, but Whiskey acted like he had. "Batey Consulting. Normal intern stuff," he said with a shrug. "Grabbing breakfast and coffee, running files, making copies, that kind of shit." </p><p>"That sounds so fucking boring. Why are you doing this, again?" </p><p>"Not all of us can be NHL players." </p><p>"I didn't mean it as a dig, man, but it doesn't sound like you're having any fun." </p><p>"It's not about fun; it's about money and something to put on my resume." </p><p>"Alright, chill." </p><hr/><p>Kent was sprawled out, only instead of doing it on what was becoming his half of the bed, he was half on top of Whiskey. </p><p>"You're more cuddly than usual," Whiskey noted, playing idly with Kent's hair. </p><p>"It's the last time I'm going to see you before I leave for Vegas." </p><p>Oh yeah. Whiskey had kind of forgotten that he was going to leave. A week and a half was enough time for him to get used to Kent's presence. Kent claimed that he'd been doing shit other than hanging out at Whiskey's, but he always did these things while Whiskey was at his internship, so he didn't have any proof. </p><p>"I don't suppose you want to call in sick tomorrow so you can spend a few more hours with me?" His tone made it clear that he knew exactly what Whiskey's answer was going to be. </p><p>"Nope." </p><p>"Ah well, at least I tried." </p><p>"Hmm." </p><p>Kent yawned, then made a content noise as he snuggled in. "Will you visit me in Vegas? Once your intern thing is over, I mean. I'd pay for your plane tickets, you can stay with me, all that shit." </p><p>He wanted to say yes as soon as Kent offered, but he settled on, "I'll think about it," so he didn't seem too desperate. Desperate wasn't really an issue with Kent as long as it didn't look like Whiskey was looking to make their arrangement a little more permanent. He didn't know how to do the first without it coming off as the second, so he was going to pretend to think about it before accepting. </p><hr/><p><b>From Whiskey:</b> Are you shitting me</p><p><b>From Kent:</b> I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about</p><p><b>From Whiskey:</b> *photo* </p><p>He put on the shirt before taking the picture, which said something about the state of his and Kent's friendship. If they hadn't slept together, he would've just laid it on his bed and then taken the picture. The shirt was bright pink and said 'PUCK BUNNY' in big black letters, with a bunny hugging a hockey puck in between the two words. </p><p><b>From Kent:</b> LOL</p><p><b>From Whiskey:</b> I'm not wearing this.</p><p><b>From Kent:</b> Not even around me?</p><p><b>From Kent:</b> It's the only time I want for you to wear it, if that helps</p><p><b>From Whiskey:</b> You're not going to fuck me wearing just this shirt if that's what you were thinking</p><p><b>From Kent:</b> :(</p><hr/><p><b>From Kent:</b> You don't do sexts do you?</p><p><b>From Whiskey:</b> Bold of you to assume I know how to do that in the first place.</p><p><b>From Kent:</b> It's like dirty talk only over text and with the occasional dick pic thrown in</p><p><b>From Whiskey:</b> Yeah I don't do dirty talk. Sorry.</p><p>Maybe it was his lack of sleeping around, but dirty talk did nothing for him. It sounded weird, and it sure as hell didn't make him more turned on. If he couldn't actually see and touch his partner, there was nothing going on. </p><p><b>From Kent:</b> Lol it's fine I figured you wouldn't want to</p><p><b>From Kent:</b> What are you wanting to do after college anyway? </p><p><b>From Whiskey:</b> Hockey maybe. Probably get a job at Batey Consulting (the place where I'm interning)</p><p><b>From Kent:</b> I think you could do hockey if you wanted. I've seen your tapes, you've got some mad stick skill and you're fast</p><p>Kent had watched tape of him playing? This was the first Whiskey had heard of it. Why would Kent do that? </p><p><b>From Kent:</b> But it's your decision and it's not for another couple years right?</p><p><b>From Kent:</b> I SWEAR TO GOD IF SWOOPS DOESN'T STOP TALKING ABOUT HIS NEW GIRLFRIEND I'M GOING TO STRANGLE HIM</p><p><b>From Whiskey:</b> Try throwing a drink in his face first.</p><p><b>From Kent:</b> This is why I love you</p><p><b>From Kent:</b> Swoops kicked me out BUT it got the message across :D </p><p>Whiskey blinked at his screen, then locked it and put his phone in his pocket. </p><hr/><p>Whiskey got another package from Kent. Whiskey looked at it suspiciously, squeezing it under his fingers to see if he could find out what it was. It felt like another shirt. </p><p>He took a picture of the unopened package and sent it to Kent. </p><p><b>From Whiskey:</b> If this is another puck bunny shirt, I'm going to set it on fire.</p><p><b>From Kent:</b> Would I do that?</p><p><b>From Whiskey:</b> Yes.</p><p><b>From Kent:</b> It's not another puck bunny shirt, I promise</p><p><b>From Whiskey:</b> You're on thin ice rn.</p><p><b>From Kent:</b> Lol just open it</p><p>Whiskey opened it, curiosity growing as he cut one end open. It looked... like a jersey. As he started to pull it out, he saw that it was an Aces jersey. He shook it out to see the back, then frowned. This was a Parson jersey. He set it next to him on the couch and picked his phone back up. </p><p><b>From Whiskey:</b> I already have your jersey?</p><p><b>From Kent:</b> I know ;)</p><p><b>From Whiskey:</b> ???</p><p>He was pretty sure he had never been as confused in his life as he was when trying to understand what was going on in Kent's head. </p><p><b>From Kent:</b> Sigh</p><p><b>From Kent:</b> Do I need to spell it out? Really?</p><p><b>From Whiskey:</b> If you want me to know what the fuck you're on about, yes.</p><p><b>From Kent:</b> I want to fuck you while you're wearing my jersey</p><p><b>From Kent:</b> But I know that you'll kill me if I get your other one dirty</p><p><b>From Kent:</b> So I bought you a new one, specifically for this</p><p><b>From Kent:</b> This way you can't get mad at me.</p><p>Whiskey blinked at his screen. That was... surprisingly well thought out. It's not that Kent was stupid or something, but it was a kind of thoughtfulness that Whiskey hadn't known to expect from him. </p><p><b>From Whiskey:</b> Oh. Thanks.</p><p><b>From Kent:</b> Does that mean you'll let me?</p><p><b>From Whiskey:</b> Sure. When did you want me to visit?</p><p><b>From Kent:</b> Uhhh</p><p><b>From Kent:</b> Whenever you want?</p><p><b>From Kent:</b> I've got a workout schedule and a couple plans with the guys, but nothing else. I could buy you tickets tonight if you wanted.</p><p><b>From Whiskey:</b> How about tomorrow? </p><p>He had plans with Foxtrot and Tango tonight, and he wasn't going to cancel on them because he hadn't seen them since they got back from the Aces game at the beginning of summer. </p><p><b>From Kent:</b> Gotcha.</p><p>Ten minutes later, Kent texted him with the flight info and emailed him the ticket. Takeoff wasn't scheduled until noon, so he'd have time to stay up with Tango and Foxtrot if that's what they wanted. Coming up with a reason for why he'd have to skip out early but not be in town the next morning wouldn't be easy, but he wouldn't have to do that this time. </p><p><b>From Kent:</b> See you soon babe </p><p>Whiskey stared at that message for longer than he wanted to admit. This didn't feel like just hooking up. Not really a casual relationship, either. It wasn't a booty call or we-care-about-each-other-but-we-have-different-priorities, this was more like they were dating. Whiskey put his phone face down and rubbed his hands against his eyes. He was getting used to not waking up at four in the morning. That's all this was. </p><p><b>From Foxtrot:</b> In town!!!</p><p><b>From Foxtrot:</b> *photo* </p><p>It was her and Tango standing side by side and grinning at the camera. </p><p><b>From Tango:</b> We're kinda tired, can we pick up some food and hang at yours?</p><p><b>From Whiskey:</b> Sure.</p><p><b>From Tango:</b> Indian?</p><p><b>From Whiskey:</b> Hell yes. My usual, 4 stars.</p><p><b>From Foxtrot:</b> You got it. See you in like 30 min?</p><p><b>From Whiskey:</b> Door will be unlocked.</p><p><b>From Tango:</b> Cool cool.</p><hr/><p>Foxtrot sighed when she hung up the phone. "Our hotel's overbooked. They won't have a room for us until tomorrow." </p><p>"You can stay here tonight. If we don't mind sharing," Whiskey added with a shrug. "And you'd have to be gone by nine so I can lock the door." </p><p>"You sure?" Tango asked, and Whiskey nodded. </p><p>"I can take the couch if you two want to share the bed?" Foxtrot ventured. </p><p>"Sounds good." </p><p>"Thanks Whiskey," Foxtrot said with a smile. </p><p>"Yeah man, thanks." </p><p>Whiskey shrugged again. "You can borrow clothes to sleep in, if you want." </p><p>"I think I'll take you up on that," Foxtrot said. They were good enough friends that it wasn't awkward for her to walk to his room and rifle through his dresser. </p><p>Tango yawned and face planted in the couch. </p><p>"Are you going to fall asleep like that?" Whiskey asked dryly. </p><p>Tango made a noise that was probably a yes. </p><p>"Um, Whiskey?" Foxtrot asked, walking back in the living room. "What is this?" She was holding the pink puck bunny shirt, looking confused. </p><p>Whiskey blinked. He did not have a good excuse for this. </p><p>Tango turned his head to look at it. "Not your usual style, man," he said, then turned his head back into the couch cushion. </p><p>"I've been seeing someone," Whiskey said. His heart was thumping too loudly in his chest, but he was going to get this out. "He thought it was funny." </p><p>There was a slight pause as they both processed that. It's not like him and Kent were serious. Whiskey didn't need to prep his friends for a relationship reveal because there wasn't anything to talk about. </p><p>"So are you the puck bunny or is he?" Tango asked. </p><p>"I bet it's both of them," Foxtrot said. "Sorry Whiskey, I'll put it back." </p><p>"It's okay. But um, I don't plan on telling anyone else, so..." </p><p>"We'll keep it under our hats," Foxtrot said with a wink. "If you ever want to talk about it though, we're here for you." </p><p>"Totes, dude," Tango called from where his face was still in the couch. </p><p>He wouldn't want to talk, but he said, "Thanks." They were the first people he'd told. Because of how everything had happened, Kent didn't count. Whiskey hadn't told Kent that he liked men; Whiskey had called him pretty, Kent responded, and they ended up in bed together. </p><hr/><p>Kent picked him up from the airport in a Ferrari. Whiskey knew that he should've been happy to see Kent-- and he was-- but all he could really think about was the fact that he was in a fucking Ferrari. This car cost the same as his college education. Whiskey was on scholarship for Samwell of course, but it was the idea. Kent had been able to drop this much money on a car. This was the most expensive thing Whiskey had ever touched, and it was kind of weird, like he was out of his depth. </p><p>"Should I give you two a moment?" Kent asked, amused at the way Whiskey was touching the arm rest. </p><p>"Does someone clean your car for you?" </p><p>"Yes." </p><p>"Hmm." Whiskey pretended to think about it. "No, they deserve better." </p><p>"So if it was me who had to clean the car..." </p><p>Whiskey looked over at him and slowly raised an eyebrow. "Shit out of luck, man." </p><p>Kent tried not to laugh, but it was a lost cause. "I missed you too," he said after he stopped laughing. </p><p>See, it was shit like that that confused Whiskey. How was he supposed to ask Kent about it though? Kent was the one that laid down the terms for this, and Whiskey had agreed. He hadn't expected for it to be so goddamn confusing. Was this how Kent normally acted? </p><hr/><p>"Betrayed and ostracized," were the first words out of Kent's mouth to Whiskey the first morning that he was there. "In my own home!" </p><p>Whiskey looked up from where he had been playing with Kit. "What?" </p><p>"This!" Kent said, motioning between Whiskey and Kit. "You <em> claimed </em> that she doesn't love you more than me, but look at this. Look at <em> you</em>." Kent put his hands on his hips and narrowed his eyes at Whiskey. "Cat thief." </p><p>As if understanding and wanting to rub it in his face, Kit climbed onto Whiskey's lap and knocked her head into his chest. </p><p>"What do you have to say for yourself?" </p><p>Whiskey blinked up at him. "I brought your jersey with me." </p><p>"Okay, you're forgiven." </p><p>"I also brought the puck bunny shirt." </p><p>"You're my favorite person ever," Kent declared with a grin. "I can't believe you brought that with you." </p><p>"I'm hoping I'll be able to force you into it." </p><p>"I'll wear it if you do." </p><p>"Deal."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. I can't help falling in love with you</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Hey Zimms?" </p><p>"Yeah?" </p><p>"How'd you know you were in love?" Kent asked. "With Bitty, I mean." </p><p>Jack blinked at him. "Why?" </p><p>"Curious. C'mon, spill." </p><p>"Couldn't you ask one of the guys who's married? I think they'd be able to talk to you more about this." </p><p>Kent snorted. "Yeah, well none of them are queer." Not that he knew about, anyways. "I'm not asking for a sonnet, here. Just- how did you know?" </p><p>Jack had to be difficult-- that's a lie, Jack was doing great these days, but he was still private-- so he asked, "Why do you want to know?" instead of answering. </p><p>"I've... been seeing someone. It's not supposed to be anything serious, so I'm worried that if I am in love with him, I should fess up before we keep going, you know?" Zimms didn't know, and Kent knew that. "I just don't want to fuck things up by getting too attached. It's not what we agreed to." He'd fucked up his and Jack's relationship by thinking it was more than it was. He liked Whiskey; he was cool, and he was fun. A great player too, which would really fuck things up for Kent if Whiskey signed on with a team in the league and he'd managed to alienate him. He wasn't going to do to Whiskey what he'd done to Zimms. </p><p>"Ah. My best advice is that if you're having to think this hard about it, you're not." </p><p>"Okay, cool," Kent said, nodding. </p><p>"Don't get mad at me if I'm wrong." </p><p>Kent snorted. "Yeah, I'll get right on that Zimms." </p><hr/><p>Whiskey thought about texting Kent about the veritable flower shop that had been delivered to him, but he figured a phone call was more appropriate. </p><p>"Hello?" </p><p>"You didn't have to buy me flowers," Whiskey said. </p><p>"Do you like them?" </p><p>"Well, yeah but-" </p><p>"Then I had to," Kent said. </p><p>Whiskey could tell from his voice that he was smiling, and it felt a little too personal for what they were supposed to be doing. Kent had sent him flowers on his birthday. Whiskey knew what his voice sounded like when he was smiling. This was getting dangerously heavy for what they were supposed to be doing. "Thanks, I guess." </p><p>"...You guess? Whiskey, if you don't like them, you can tell me that and I won't do it again." </p><p>"The flowers are beautiful, I just wasn't expecting it." </p><p>"Is this another example of a bad surprise?" </p><p>"No, it's fine." </p><p>"Alright, if you're sure. Any plans for the day?" </p><p>"Going to class, and going to practice." </p><p>"Any <em> fun </em> plans?" </p><p>"Uh, I'm going to watch your game after practice, does that count?" It did in his books. </p><p>"It counts if we win. You going to be cheering for us?" </p><p>"Of course." </p><p>"I'll make it a point to score a goal just for you," Kent said. </p><p>"Keeping up your point streak has nothing to do with it, I'm sure." </p><p>"I'll just have to score twice then. One for me, one for you." </p><p>"I'm gonna need a kiss at the camera to prove the goal's for me," Whiskey joked. </p><p>"Naturally," Kent agreed. Whiskey could easily picture the way his grin was widening on the other side of the phone, the way the corners of his eyes were crinkling. </p><p>They talked for another couple minutes about the Aces game tonight and Whiskey's last science class of his life (hopefully) before hanging up. Whiskey shook his head fondly and picked up two of the bouquets. One bouquet would've been enough to get Kent's point across, and there was no point in him holding on to all of these. He'd drop by the theater building to give Foxtrot one, and he usually saw Tango on his way to class. </p><p>"Oh!" Foxtrot said, looking at the flowers. "Did I do something special or do you have overflow?" </p><p>"So much overflow. I'm beginning to wonder if he grew up on this planet or if he's making guesses about human behavior based on TV shows." </p><p>Foxtrot laughed. "Well thanks. Maybe they'll brighten up the room enough that everyone stops complaining about doing another run through. Tell your boy to chill, but thanks." </p><p>"He's not my boy," Whiskey said. </p><p>"Well tell him thanks anyways." </p><p>"Yeah sure." </p><p>"And thanks, Whiskey!" she yelled after him as he left. </p><p>Whiskey didn't think much about the weird way him and Kent had been talking until the game came around. He was at the Haus, and Bitty was ecstatic about it. Whiskey knew that Bitty wanted to be connected to all of the team members, especially since him and Whiskey were on the same line. Whiskey didn't much care to be best friends with Bitty since they didn't have much in common, but the Haus was the best place to watch the game since Bitty watched every single Aces game, and he always had some baked goods around to eat. </p><p>Anyways, Whiskey was watching the game, eating cobbler along with everyone else, and he almost choked on it when Kent made a goal then turned to one of the cameras and blew a kiss at it. He'd gotten a goal early in the first period, basically a crack shot that no one had been prepared for that early in the game. It got everyone's asses in gear, and you could practically feel the energy both teams had after that. But Kent made a second goal, and he blew a kiss at the camera like they'd talked about. </p><p>"What was that?" Chowder said, leaning forward to try and get a better look at the TV. </p><p>"Huh," Bitty said. "Maybe he's dating someone?" </p><p>"Maybe one of the guys dared him to," Nursey said. </p><p>"Such a pretty goal, though," Bitty said, tapping the end of his fork against his mouth. </p><p>The replay rolled, and it included his little kiss to the camera. Kent was so goddamn good at hockey, and he'd remembered what Whiskey had said. </p><p>Whiskey had been joking. He hadn't meant for Kent to actually do it. Hell, he hadn't thought that Kent <em> would </em> do it, even if he remembered. This was- <em> god</em>, what was Kent thinking? This was definitely outside the bounds of friends with benefits. You didn't get a goal and blow a kiss to the fucking camera if it wasn't something more than that-- if it wasn't <em> something</em>. Kent had sent him a dozen bouquets this morning. He got a goal and remembered what they'd talked about earlier that day. It felt like his heart was going to beat its way right out of his chest. </p><p>They'd agreed that they weren't going to date because it was too much effort and took up too much time, but they'd been texting and calling and visiting without a problem for six months now. Kent remembered his birthday and sent him presents all the time. He remembered random things that Whiskey told him-- like that his favorite flowers were orange, and every bouquet Kent had sent him this morning was orange-- and at least half their interactions felt romantic. In the beginning, it had been that they were friends who were also having sex. But it just- it didn't feel like that anymore. </p><p>On screen, the puck dropped, and they were back to the game. Kent wasn't on the ice, and he took his helmet off on the bench, an easy smile on his face as he reached for some water. </p><p>Whiskey grabbed his phone and sent a quick text, then turned his attention back to the TV. </p><p><b>From Whiskey:</b> You're such a dork. Call me when you're done?</p><p>Maybe Kent wouldn't. He might be busy celebrating with the team, or he might be too tired. What if he wasn't actually thinking what Whiskey was thinking? Then it would just be weird that Whiskey was asking for him to call when they'd already established that Whiskey didn't do phone sex. </p><p>He had half his mind on the rest of the game, and the other half was twisting itself into knots, wondering if he'd made a mistake. He hadn't really taken the initiative in this relationship. Kent was the one who asked for his number, floated the idea, and he was the one that kept sending Whiskey stuff. Maybe he'd appreciate that Whiskey was finally responding in kind? </p><p>Normally Whiskey would have left right after the game ended, but everyone was lounging around talking about the game, Jack, and their own season. Tango specifically asked for him to stay, and Foxtrot had looked all hopeful, so he said sure. He hadn't meant to stick around for long enough that Kent had a chance to call him, but now his phone was ringing, with Kent's little cat emoji showing up on his phone screen. </p><p>"I'm gonna go ahead and go home," Whiskey said as a goodbye before getting to his feet. He slid it to answer as he started heading for the door. "Hey." </p><p>"Hey. You like my goal?" </p><p>"Which one?" Whiskey said, as if Kent didn't know exactly which one he would be having thoughts about. </p><p>But it was Kent, and he was willing to do the banter. "Both of them. Come on, tell me how impressive I am." </p><p>"You could've gotten a third goal, but you didn't even try." </p><p>"Aw c'mon, I got two goals <em> and </em> an assist. How much more can you really expect from me in a single game?" </p><p>"Three goals?" Whiskey said. He hadn't driven here since he'd already been on campus after dinner, so he started walking back to his apartment. It was a faster pace than he normally would've taken, but he was amped up. It's not like there was anyone around to hear him, but he wanted to be in private. </p><p>"How much could you <em> reasonably </em> expect from me in a single game," Kent rephrased. </p><p>"You've done it before." </p><p>Kent snorted. "Yeah back in like, Juniors. My three goal games are behind me." </p><p>"You sound like an old man." </p><p>"As far as hockey is concerned, I'm middle-aged." </p><p>"So not old." </p><p>"Not quite yet." There was a moment of comfortable silence. "So I'm not complaining, but why'd you want for me to call you?" </p><p>"I figured you deserved some kind of reward for getting that goal for me." </p><p>"Technically, that was your birthday present." </p><p>"Consider this a thank you card, then." </p><p>"And what exactly is 'this'?" Kent asked, something sly in his tone. </p><p>"I haven't decided yet. What are you wanting?" </p><p>"Well if I get to pick anything..." </p><p>"I'm not promising that I'll do it, but what are you thinking?" </p><p>"Phone sex?" Kent asked hopefully. "I'll do most of the talking." </p><p>It made his face flame just thinking about it, but he said, "Sure." </p><p>"Shit, really?" </p><p>"Yeah. I'm walking home, but uh, when I get there, I'm all yours." All his, more than Kent knew. </p><hr/><p>"Hey Kent?" Whiskey said, laying on his couch and staring up at the ceiling. He'd given up on getting more homework done about twenty minutes into their conversation. Apparently, arguing about the finer points of Indian food took a while. Eventually they came to the conclusion that they had different taste buds but the other person was on thin fucking ice. </p><p>"Yeah?" </p><p>"I don't think I can... um. The whole, us-not-dating thing. I don't think I can do that anymore." </p><p>Kent didn't answer right away. "What do you mean?" </p><p>"I don't-." Whiskey stopped and licked his lips. "I don't want to give you an ultimatum or something, but uh, I can't keep doing what we've been doing. Having sex and it not meaning anything. I um. I want us to date. And if that's not what you want, then we should end it." </p><p>Silence. </p><p>Whiskey was overly aware of every beat of his heart and how long every breath seemed to feel. He gave it a minute-- or a few very long feeling seconds, either way it felt like an eternity-- before saying, "Kent? You still there?" </p><p>"Yeah. Yeah, just um- thinking." </p><p>"Okay," Whiskey said, his voice smaller than he wanted for it to sound. "It's just, I- um- I really care about you." The admission made him feel like he was going to fall apart. If a fly landed on his foot, he would fall into little cubes like they did in cartoons after a character ran through a net. "And I know we said we were both too busy to date, but it's been working so far. You've- I mean, you've sent flowers and presents and shit. You blew a kiss at the camera for me. It- it just kinda feels like we're already dating. I want to be able to tell you I miss you without worrying that you'll think I'm being too clingy." Maybe admitting that wasn't his best decision. </p><p>"Whiskey," Kent said, his voice tight and strained. </p><p>Whiskey squeezed his eyes shut and swallowed thickly. "Yeah." </p><p>"We agreed that this wasn't going to be serious," Kent said. He sounded almost as miserable as Whiskey felt. Almost. "We- I mean, I told you, upfront, that it wasn't going to be like that." </p><p>He brought a hand on and pressed at the inside corner of his eyes. "I remember." </p><p>"And you agreed. This wasn't supposed to- I didn't mean that we were going to start casual and talk about it if it started to feel deeper. That's not what I said." </p><p>"I know," Whiskey said thickly. Despite his best efforts, he was starting to cry. He hated crying. It was messy and felt gross, and he was always left with a lingering feeling of self-hatred. All around, it was a bad time. </p><p>"Whiskey... c'mon, can't we go back to what we had and forget about this?" </p><p>He had to bit down hard on the inside of his cheek to keep from sobbing. He wanted to fall asleep right now and not wake up for about forty hours. "No. I wouldn't be able to." </p><p>"But- I- it was-" Kent came to a sudden stop, probably pressing his knuckles against his mouth to keep from trying to start anymore sentences that he couldn't finish. "I'm uh, I'm sorry, but I can't- I mean, I don't think we should try the dating thing."</p><p>"So this is it." </p><p>"...Yeah. I- I'm gonna miss you. Bye, Whiskey." </p><p>He let out a shaky breath. "Goodbye, Kent." He moved the phone from his ear and hit the end call icon. The screen stayed lit up for a moment before going black. 1:23:46. The little cat emoji. He swallowed again and dropped his phone on the carpet. </p><hr/><p>Whiskey hadn't realized just how much time he spent talking to Kent until it was suddenly gone. He saw a cat on the street that reminded him of Kit, and he'd gotten his phone out of his pocket and unlocked before realizing that he shouldn't text him. </p><p>No more quick visits for sex between roadies. No more surprise packages or random questions sent at all times of the day. No more pictures of Kit and claiming that she liked Whiskey more than him. </p><p>It had been two weeks since they broke up and Whiskey thought he was finally getting used to it, but then he was doing laundry and saw his extra Parson jersey when he was about to fold everything. That stupid puck bunny shirt was in there too. They'd both worn it. They'd cut the sleeves off because Kent's arms had stretched them out and made it look even more silly than before. Sleeveless, it was more obvious that the shirt was a joke. </p><p>He folded up the extra Parson jersey and set it to the side. He folded the puck bunny shirt and set it on top. He went to his dresser and grabbed the normal Aces shirt that Kent had bought him. </p><p><b>From Whiskey:</b> *photo*</p><p><b>From Whiskey:</b> Did you want me to mail these back to you? </p><p>It took a long time to answer. Long enough that Whiskey finished folding and putting away the rest of his laundry. He thought that maybe Kent wasn't going to look at the text at all. </p><p><b>From Kent:</b> They were gifts. </p><p>Kent didn't want them back. Now Whiskey had to find out where to put them. Or if he even wanted to keep them. He opened his bottom drawer and shoved them in the back. He had them, but this way, he wouldn't have to look at them until he got over this. </p><p>He hung his head after the drawer was closed again. It was stupid to think that he'd feel like this forever. People fell out of love all the time. People got broken up with every day. They all got over it after enough time. It would be nice if it didn't feel so fucking hopeless. </p><p>He was getting more sleep now. His grades had always been good, and his performance on the ice hadn't wavered. Talking and meeting up with Kent had cut into how much sleep he got, and now... now he was good. Full night's rest every night. It was nice. He'd swap it in an instant to have Kent back, and he hated that he felt like this. Kent was great, but he wasn't everything in Whiskey's life. He still had his friends, his classes, and his games. </p><hr/><p>"Hey man, I know you don't really like kegsters, but you should totally come to this one," Tango said. "End of the semester, you aced all your finals, and you're still bummed about the break up. You could use some tub juice to make you forget your worries and celebrate a great semester." </p><p>Whiskey shrugged uncomfortably. It felt five kinds of awkward to have to tell Tango and Foxtrot that he wasn't seeing someone anymore. He missed the company, so he was hanging out with them a little more often. Plus, with not talking to Kent all the time, he felt more lonely. </p><p>"C'mon man, you know that Bitty would be happy to see you there. And me and Foxtrot will both be busy all night setting up and then cleaning afterwards." </p><p>Him and Bitty didn't exactly get along, but it was a fair point. Bitty was bending over backwards trying to include him, and it's not like he would hate going. Tango was right in that him and Foxtrot would be busy all night, and there was no point in Whiskey saying no now only to show up halfway through the kegster because he didn't feel like being alone. "Sure." </p><p>"Awesome," Tango said, giving him a one-armed hug. </p><p>And that's how Whiskey ended up at a kegster, a cup of tub juice in one hand as he leaned against the wall, wondering if it would be worth it to stick this out. Every couple minutes he decided that it was worth it to stay because he'd be just as-- if not more-- miserable at his apartment. Then he'd hear someone yelling and rethink the entire thing. </p><p>There was a sudden burst of cheering, and Whiskey looked over, expecting to see that someone had just won at beer pong. That's not what he saw. Kent and Jack were here. Jack was hugging Bitty so tight that he'd lifted him off the floor, and Kent was able to quickly procure a cup of tub juice, somehow-- someone had probably run out and grabbed him one. Right. Bitty had probably invited him. Or maybe he'd invited Jack and Kent had tagged along for fun. He'd shown up at a kegster a couple years back, right? Maybe it was a standing invite or something. </p><p>Kent started looking around the room like he was trying to find someone. It was wishful thinking that he was trying to find Whiskey, right? Whiskey choked down the hope and chased it with a swig of tub juice. Then he frowned down at his cup. He was out. Hell, this was a party. He was going to get himself a refill and try to enjoy himself. He padded to the porch to get a refill, then walked back inside. The part he hadn't accounted for was someone running into him and getting tub juice sloshed over their shirt. </p><p>"Shit, sorry," Whiskey said, yanking the cup out of range and wiping ineffectually at his shirt with his hand. He should've known better than to fill his cup more than halfway. "At least your shirt's black?" he tried, then looked up to see how angry this guy was with him. If he was halfway to wasted, he'd probably be fine. If he was leaning more towards sober, Whiskey might be in some shit. Because the universe hated him, it was Kent. He could feel his face shut down as he averted his eyes and took a step back. "Sorry." </p><p>"It's fine. And uh, my fault because I was following you but wasn't paying attention." Kent pinched the front of his shirt and held it a little away from his body. "Kinda wish I'd brought another shirt with me, but whatever." </p><p>Someone nudged Kent aside with a muttered, "Excuse me," and he stepped out of the way. </p><p>"Can we uh- y'know, talk?" </p><p>Whiskey's eyes shot back to look at him. "Pretty sure we don't have anything to talk about." </p><p>"No? We can always talk about what an ass I am; I know you've got more than enough material to fill a conversation with that." </p><p>"You're not that bad," Whiskey said with a look askance. He was very aware of how easy it would be for someone to overhear them. He jerked his head to the side. "Come on." He led him round to the side of the Haus and sat down, leaning his back against the wall. After a moment, Kent joined him. Whiskey offered him the still mostly full cup of tub juice, and Kent took a sip, then handed it back. </p><p>"In my defense, I tried to text you first." </p><p>Whiskey wiggled to get his phone out of his pocket and checked. He'd put his phone on silent as soon as they started to get ready for the party, which had been for most of the day. Two missed calls and seven unread messages, all of them from Kent. "Phone was on silent," he said, putting his phone back. </p><p>"It doesn't count as a surprise visit cause it's a party, right? And I did try to tell you. Slash ask," he added. "I didn't want to talk about it over the phone, though." </p><p>"Talk about what?" </p><p>Kent brought one knee up and took his hat off, letting it settle on top of his knee. "Us. I um, I understand if you don't want to date me anymore, but I'd like a chance to explain." </p><p>Whiskey took Kent's hat and put it on his own head. "I'm listening." What he'd be listening <em> to</em>, he had no idea. </p><p>"Me and Zimms used to... not date, but you know, we were together. Mostly we were young and horny, but I thought it was serious. That we were- I dunno, in love or something. I- I swear I'm going somewhere with this," he muttered, running a hand through his hair nervously. "I asked Zimms if I could tell you, and he said yes, so- so I just need to get it out." Kent took a deep breath. "He never told me that he loved me. I just sort of got it in my head and didn't let it go. And then, with uh- with us, I said that it wasn't going to be serious. When I started to feel more, I shoved it down. Told myself that it didn't mean anything because I didn't want to ruin another relationship by being more invested than my partner. You see what I'm saying?" </p><p>"We agreed not to be serious, and when it started to get that way, you panicked. Right?" That was what Whiskey had gotten from it, anyways. </p><p>"Yeah, basically. A couple days-- or I dunno, maybe a week?-- before you told me, I asked Jack what it felt like to be in love. I'd already decided that I wasn't going to let us get serious, so when you started saying everything, I just..." </p><p>"Shut down," Whiskey offered. </p><p>"Yeah. And you said that pretty much nothing would have to change if we started dating, but I'm used to my official relationships ending in smoke. Took me this long to figure out that we'd be able to make it work. If you still want to, that is." </p><p>In response, Whiskey took off the hat and put it back on Kent's head the way he normally wore it with the bill backwards. "I've still got that puck bunny shirt." </p><p>Kent snorted, starting to look hopeful. "And you tried to tell me that you hated it." </p><p>"I do hate it." <em> But I like the way it makes you laugh. </em> "Got any new pictures of Kit?" </p><p>"Only a hundred," Kent said, pulling out his phone. "So obviously the best one is right after we got back from the groomer and her hair was all fluffy. See? Look at that. This is the pinnacle of perfection, right here." </p><p>Whiskey hummed in agreement, then kissed Kent's cheek. </p><p>Kent looked at him in surprise. </p><p>"It's okay, right?" </p><p>"Yeah," he said, expression morphing into a smile. "Yeah, totally. What do I have to do to get a real kiss?" </p><p>Whiskey leaned in, and there was a distinct feeling of contentment as their lips met. "Don't kill me for this," Whiskey muttered, and he acted quickly before Kent had time to do more than start to form the word 'what'. He yanked Kent's hat off and poured the cup of tub juice over his head. His phone was far enough away that no liquid got on it, and Whiskey had aimed more for the back of his head just to be safe. </p><p>"I hate you," was Kent's immediate response. </p><p>Whiskey couldn't stop laughing. </p><p>"I <em> fucking </em> hate you, oh my god." He ran a hand through his hair and wiped his wet hand over Whiskey's face, but it didn't stop him from laughing. </p><p>"Your shirt was already dirty," he managed to get out, but as soon as he finished, he fell into another peal of laughter and leaned against Kent for support. He knew he was getting his clothes dirty; he didn't care. Chances were that Kent would pour a cup of something on him before the night was over anyways. </p><p>"Do you have any idea how sticky this shit is?" </p><p>Whiskey nodded. </p><p>"If you don't invite me back to your place for a shower, I'm going to be grumpy for the rest of the night." </p><p>"What a shame that would be," Whiskey snickered. </p><p>Kent narrowed his eyes at him. "Is this some kind of punishment for ending things?" </p><p>"Don't be an ass, of course not." </p><p>Kent shook out his hair, splashing droplets on Whiskey. </p><p>"How long are you here for?" </p><p>"Leaving day after tomorrow." </p><p>Whiskey nodded, idly playing with the edge of Kent's hat. "We should go back inside." </p><p>"Like this?" Kent asked, making a gesture to encompass the tub juice situation. </p><p>"People will wonder what happened to you." </p><p>"People will wonder what happened to me if I walk in like this." </p><p>"Tell them the truth," Whiskey said with a shrug. </p><p>"That my boyfriend dumped his drink over my head?" </p><p>"Maybe don't be <em> that </em> honest." </p><p>"Well," Kent reached an arm up and around Whiskey's shoulders, pulling him in closer. It would've been sweet if Whiskey hadn't known that he was doing it to get him as messy as Kent was. "Where are we drawing the line? We disappeared together and-" </p><p>"I know you're not this dumb," Whiskey cut in. Kent knew full well that neither of them were out and, at this point in time at least, didn't plan on changing that. </p><p>"If you don't let me make jokes at my own expense, this is going to be a very boring conversation." </p><p>Whiskey snorted. "Didn't you come to enjoy the party?" </p><p>"I came to see you. If I wanted to get wasted on low quality booze, I would find a dive where I lived instead of traveling this far." </p><p>"Hm. I promised Tango I'd stay for at least an hour." The idea had been that after he made it an hour, he'd be buzzed enough that he wouldn't mind staying the rest of the time. Plus, he'd been planning on helping clean up afterwards. He probably wouldn't do that now that Kent was here, but Tango or Foxtrot would call him all worried if they noticed him duck out. </p><p>"See, why are you trying to convince me to stay when A. we could be having sex instead of hanging around in a frat house where we have to pretend like we're not together and B. you know that I'm going to pour a drink on you. Why would you do that to yourself." </p><p>Whiskey shrugged. He didn't know exactly what he was thinking, but he felt like he wanted to stay here for a little bit longer. Maybe it was to keep an eye on Tango because there was only so much Foxtrot could do when she was also cutting loose. Maybe it was to keep Bitty from worrying when he'd been so happy earlier. Maybe it was because even if he knew that him and Kent were dating, he wanted proof that something had changed. Going back to his place to have sex would feel good, but it wouldn't be different than what they'd done before. If they stayed at the kegster though, that would be more like they were dating. They wouldn't be able kiss or anything, but Whiskey wasn't a big PDA guy in the first place. Hanging out, acting like friends when they could've been alone, that felt more like what he wanted right now. </p><p>"Are you- I mean, you're sure about this, right? Us dating? Cause if you changed your mind, you can say it, and-" </p><p>Whiskey slapped a hand over his mouth. "I'm sure. Can we go back inside?" </p><p>Kent looked at him for a moment, probably trying to figure out what had gone through Whiskey's head to make him want to stay here. "Okay. Do I get my hat back?" </p><p>"What, so you can get it sticky?" Whiskey got to his feet and put it on. "No way." He offered a hand up to Kent. </p><p>Kent took it, even though he didn't need it. Sometimes it was nice to just touch. "Are you stealing my hat, then? Is that what this is?" </p><p>"Yep." </p><p>"You- you can't just <em> steal </em> my hat!" </p><p>"Watch me." </p><hr/><p>Kent ended up pouring a little bit of beer on his neck and down his back since, despite his protests that Whiskey should give it back, he didn't want to get his hat dirty. </p><p>They were sticky as all hell when they left, and after a quick shower, they ended up cuddling before going to sleep. It was... Well, at the risk of sounding like a total sap, it was perfect. Kent’s hand curled into his, and they fell asleep like that. Their positions had shifted at some point in the night, but that was how they woke up too. </p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>